Sunday, July 13, 2014

Colonel Thomas Kilby Smith to Elizabeth Budd Smith, July 19, 1863

Headquarters U. S. Forces,
Natchez, Miss., July 19, 1863.
My Dear Wife:

To-day is Sunday, one week since I wrote you from Vicksburg. I had then just returned from Port Hudson, and a reconnoissance of the river, bringing with me the news of the reduction or rather surrender of Port Hudson, and despatches from General Banks. Having impressed upon General Grant the importance of occupying this point, I was sent back to take possession of Natchez, by aid of General Ransom and his brigade. This was accomplished without opposition, to the immense and mingled surprise, grief, and indignation of the people, as well as officers and soldiers whom we took as prisoners. We captured some five thousand head of fine cattle, three thousand of which we have shipped to Port Hudson and to Vicksburg. We captured and destroyed large quantities of ordnance and ordnance stores, and great numbers of small arms. We are in the process of taking large quantities of sugar, molasses, corn, and cotton, belonging to the so-called Confederate government; also immense quantities of lumber, at this time of large value to our army. Our occupation has been most fertile in results. The plan of operations was suggested, and carried into effect by me. I shall never be known in it to the world at large, nor is it of vast moment, but it has been an expedition fraught with success, and I congratulate myself at least, so let it pass.

Natchez is a beautiful little city of about seven thousand or eight thousand inhabitants, a place for many years past of no great business significance, but rather a congregation of wealthy planters and retired merchants and professional men, who have built magnificent villas, along the bluffs of the river and in the rear, covering for the city a large space of ground. Wealth and taste, a most genial climate and kindly soil have enabled them to adorn these in such manner as almost to give the Northerner his realization of a fairy tale. Tourists, who, in times past, have visited the South, have usually selected winter as the season for their journeyings, and for the most part, have confined themselves to the limits of city and steamboat. They have told us little of rural life amid the opulent of the South, their efforts give but faint ideas of the clime or country. The grand luxuriance of foliage and flower and fruit of which this sunny clime can boast, has been denied them, and is seen in its perfection now and where my footsteps lead me.

The house of . . . where I have been quartered for the past week, is one of the largest and most elegantly appointed mansions in all the South. Any description that I can give of its superb appointments will be but feeble. The proprietor counts his plantations by the dozens, his slaves by the thousands, those people, I mean, who were his slaves. He has travelled most extensively all over Europe; his summers, for almost his lifetime, have been passed in Europe or at our Northern watering places. His family consists only of himself and wife, a lady of some thirty-five years, not beautiful, but thoroughbred, tall figure, fine eyes, good refined features, a gentle, musical voice, and a sweet smile. He, fifty. The mansion is very large, great rooms with high ceilings, long wide halls, ample piazzas, windows to the floor and opening upon grassy terrace. Walls hung with chefs d'ceuvre of Europe's and America's best artists. Busts from Powers and Crawford, paintings from Landseer and Sully and Peal. Everything that ministers to refined taste almost is here. For the grounds, you must imagine a chain of very high and steep bluffs, bordering a wide river which winds in silvery sheen far below, and is so serpentine in its course, that miles and miles away, . . . you can see its waters glittering in the last sun rays, while intervening there are plain and forest, plantations highly cultivated, and dotted with the whitewashed negro quarters, and the damp green swamp land. The river disappears amid waving, moss-grown trees, to reappear tortuously ribboned amid canebrake and plain, always on calm days a mirror of the bright blue skies, and fleecy clouds of ever-changing forms of beauty. As you approach upon the broad carriage way that gracefully sweeps past the high-columned portico, which is shaded by the cypress and magnolia and crape myrtle, gorgeous in its bloom and blooming always, your feet crackling the gravel and sea shells, you are almost lost in labyrinthine ways which pass over terrace and undulating sward, over rustic bridges, through cool and verdurous alleys of gloria mundi, Japan plum, the live and water oak, making literally a flowery pathway of exotics of gorgeous coloring and startling magnificence, and almost indigenous to the soil in which they grow, the river view bursts suddenly upon you, and in the beautiful summer house you sit down entranced, wondering if it is all real, or if the scene has not been suddenly conjured by an enchanted wand. Flowers and bloom and fruit are all around, and almost sick with perfume one can dream away the hours in ecstacy of enjoyment, the air so soft and balmy, all so still, so peaceful, apparently ; one must here awhile forget the lurking serpent.

You return to the house by the orchards and cultivated lands by the greenhouse, hothouse, and pineries. A house that cost a small fortune has been built to shelter a single banana tree that grows within its hot atmosphere, bears fruit and puts forth its great green leaves three feet or more in length. Unheard-of plants are clambering about the conservatories; the more ordinary beauties of the greenhouse and of the parterre smile in boundless profusion and perfection of bloom. Pines and figs of three or four varieties, melons I should be afraid to tell you how large, for you would not credit me. Cantaloupes, peaches, pears, and the most delicious nectarines are brought fresh to the table every day. Shooting galleries and billiard rooms, elegantly fitted up for ladies as well as gentlemen, are placed in picturesque positions in the grounds and gardens. Stables and offices all concealed, nothing to offend the most fastidious taste. One continually wonders that such a Paradise can be made on earth.

. . . My duties are very nominal. Indeed, I have nothing to do but represent General Grant ... I ride a little way morning and evening for exercise. I take good care of myself, and do not suffer much from the heat. I should be very happy if you were with me, for amid all this almost voluptuous luxury, I have no one to love me; they minister from fear, not affection. Amid the busiest throng I am very lonely. The “months that are passing slowly away into years” are hurrying us forward to the sea of eternity. The prime and vigor of my life is going oh, so fast! And all these months I have laid in the saps, and trenches, and swamps, and by the roadside and in the forest. Sometimes like a stag at bay, ever ready to spring upon an assailant, a heart so longing for home and sweet home affections, yet so hardened to suffering, so strange to all that is homelike.

I sit me down in quiet and think. I have not the excitement of the battle and skirmish, bivouac and march, to drain all my physical energies and keep my heart from throbbing, at times anxiously throbbing with anguish unspeakable. I think of you all at home, of you and my dear little children, of my darling mother and sweetest sister. How I am blessed in all of you, how proud I am of all of you, and yet sweetest intercourse by hard sad fate is denied. I must work on in the storm of battle, borne forward on the wings of the whirlwind of the strife of the people, the tornado of political elements, far behind I leave you all in flowery meads and pastures green. The storm has passed you and all is serene, only on either side you see the wreck of those who have fallen. My mission is not yet done. I go to prepare you all a way, if not for you, for my children, if not for them, still for those who come after. God's hand is in all this, be of good cheer, and fear not. I complain a little to myself; sometimes I could cry aloud in very agony of spirit; I have been so desolate, but it is all wrong. I have been selected for some purpose or I should not be here and hindered as I am from the heart's best affections; it is meet that I should suffer. I propose to bear my cross gracefully and without murmur. As for you all, all who are dear, oh, how dear to me, sister, mother, children, wife, weld your affections, be all in all to one another, bear with each other, it will be but a little while; in all your sufferings, there will be much joy, and soon, if not in this world, in another we shall be together and at peace.

How long I shall stay here, I am uncertain. I want to go to Mobile and shall try to get in with a flag of truce, if I cannot arrange it otherwise. We sent there yesterday, by steamboat City of Madison, a large number of wounded and sick rebel officers. I shall return to Vicksburg first, however, and perhaps before the close of this week. Simultaneously with the reception of this letter, if I am fortunate enough in getting it off, you will have heard of General Sherman's success at Jackson, where Johnson had fortified himself. The victory is complete. Now we have the Mississippi River open, we have the capital and two principal towns of his State, the control of the whole State, I wonder how Mr. Jefferson Davis feels. My plans may be altered upon my return to Vicksburg. I cannot tell yet.

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 323-7

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